Partner
by element90
Summary: One of two people working together; one playing a game with another against an opposing side; one sharing an intimate relationship with another
1. Chapter 1

Small flakes of white fall, kissing frozen skin and clinging to lashes. A quiet, slow breath is the only sound. Pools of the morning's rain reflect the black and white night in their icy glaze.

Her body is mostly numb. A blessing. She's too weak to struggle anymore against the rope securing her wrists above her head. The world around her eventually blurs into nothing once again.

_"Hey, El. Check this out."_

_He leans over her shoulder._

_ She chuckles at his blank expression, tosses the tabloid mag onto the desk._

_"Could you believe the traffic this morning?" he grumbles, taking up some folders in hand._

_"Pretty deserted at 2."_

_He stops midway to a filing cabinet. "What's it like paying rent for a place you never sleep in?"_

_"Like paying rent for a place you always sleep in, I imagine," she replies with a half-smile._

_He dumps the folders into the cabinet._ _"You had breakfast?"_

_She gives her head a shake._

_"You're buyin'," he notes, grabbing up his coat off the back of the chair._

He's still inside the cabin.

The girlfriend keeps her distance, keeps the gun trained on him. The boyfriend, he stokes the fire, rubs his hands together while whistling under his breath.

He hasn't spoken a word since daylight faded. Not since he had been warned and foolishly ignored it. Not since the boyfriend abruptly left and returned later, undeniable red on the metal bat in hand. His eyes had snapped tightly shut. The boyfriend had laughed; the girlfriend had sat motionless, her finger steady on the trigger.

_"Oh, man. That's a good omelet."_

_Her eyes narrow in disgust. "Jesus, El. Don't talk with your mouth full."_

_He pops in a greasy piece of bacon._ _"Tea and toast, huh?" he asks, chomping loudly on the fatty slice of pig._

_"You're eating enough to clog my arteries too."_

_He nods, gulping down his orange juice._ _"So, um, how'd the big date go?"_

_She raises an eyebrow. "Big date?"_

_"Is he Romeo or not?"_

_With a laugh, she stirs her tea. "Since when do we have conversations about my personal life over breakfast?"_

_"Well I could ask while working a scene, but that seems a little insensitive."_

_She stares blankly at him._

_He shrugs. "Want a piece?" he asks, offering perfectly cooked bacon._

_She pauses, sighs, and then accepts._ _He chuckles when her lips curve into a smile as she bites a strip in half._

There's a faint gray glow when she wakes again.

The snow has stopped falling. The air is colder, thin and dry. A brisk breeze whips through the treetops high above her.

A slight moan escapes her sore throat and chapped lips as she shifts her body, attempting to roll onto her uninjured side as a deep cough overcomes her. Once she manages to catch her breath again, she returns to a less painful position. The muscles in her back protest, but her tightly bound ankles and wrists welcome the relief.

She lifts her head; the cabin is barely visible in the dim light of dawn.

"_Mm, that's really good," she mumbles around a mouthful of the bacon._

_"Jesus, Liv, don't talk with your mouth full," he mocks._

_She rolls her eyes._

_He places another piece next to her toast as she wipes the corner of her mouth. She gives him a silent thankful smile. _

"_He's married," she states after several seconds of silence, snapping the crispy bacon into._

_Elliot pauses, fork poised midway to his lips. _

"_You heard correctly."_

_He takes the bite, chews thoughtfully. "How'd you find out?"_

_She ducks her head slightly, silky strands falling to partially hide her face. "His wife followed him to the restaurant, introduced herself."_

_Elliot swallows, gently sets his fork back onto his plate._

_Olivia shakes if off. "It wouldn't have worked out even if he'd been available."_

"_What makes you say that?"_

_She finishes off the bacon he'd given her. "It never does." She puts more distance between herself and the table._

"_It's rough…"_

"_Says the guy who's been married a hundred years," she replies with a snort._

"_I've dated, Liv." He corrects, stabbing at eggs with his fork. "And I know how hard it can be in this job."_

_She shrugs lightly, dismissing the reference. "I always use the job to explain failed relationships but maybe-"_

_He shakes his head. "It's not you."_

_She lifts an eyebrow._

"_A guy would be lucky to have you," he admits, chewing his breakfast. "Probably not deserving, but lucky."_

_She laughs softly, turning her head to watch pedestrians roam the sidewalk outside the diner._

_He watches her, annoyed by the way she so casually ignored his comment and puzzled about the strange feeling that'd crept inside his chest when he'd said it._

_Olivia glances at him, but he averts her eyes, takes a drink instead._

"_Guess we better get back to it," she suggests, standing and slipping into her jacket then dropping a few bills on the table._

_He nods and finishes off his water, shrugs on his own coat, and follows her to the exit._

The sex was extremely rough. Completely loveless. Their dedication to each other built upon something he doesn't want to examine. If he had looked away, she would have paid the consequences. So he kept his eyes fixed, his body still.

It dragged on for an eternity, each taking turns at a special kind of abuse. When it was over, he focused on the wall, studying shadowy shapes in the dark. Anything to remove himself from the moment.

He keeps thoughts of his family far from this place.

He tries hard to not think of her.

He tries.

The boyfriend flips on the lights and the shapes disappear.

_"Coincidence, Liv."_ _He shrugs off his coat along with her expression of disbelief._ _"Sometimes I'm just really hungry."_

_She takes a seat at her desk, pushes her black sleeves up her forearms._ _"Sometimes every time I'm footing the bill."_

_He offers her a crooked grin._

_And the captain calls out their names._

She shivers uncontrollably. Her eyes fly open at the crunching sound of heavy footsteps in the snow. When he squats beside her, he casually wraps thick fingers around her neck. And smiles.

"Two nights. I'm impressed." He whistles low, clicks his tongue. "There are a lot of people looking for you two. Must be so…" His hand moves from her neck, over her chest, to her hip where he digs his fingernails into the wound. "Important."

She winces as his other hand travels up her thigh, slowly passing over her ribs, her breast.

"Not like me," he continues, the smile fading, eyes growing darker as he presses into the wound again.

She bites down on her lip.

"Not like us…"

He pulls the black jacket away from her body, lifts her shirt to expose the source of his interest. "But as important as you may be..." He presses down too hard, causing a small cry to force its way from her mouth. "You still bleed."

He flips the jacket to cover her again. "You'll still die."

He leaves her, striding quickly up the rocky trail to the cabin.

_"Backup's 15 minutes out."_

_He expels a heavy breath, shakes his head._ _"Tell 'em we can't wait."_

_She radios it in as they approach the building._

"Did you like that?"

He stares, unshaken by the girlfriend's flirtatious drawl and the way she seductively crosses a bare leg over the other.

The girlfriend lifts an eyebrow, raises the gun to aim at his head. "I asked you a question."

The boyfriend slams the wooden door upon reentry, grabs a bottle off the kitchenette table and glares at her. "Put some damn clothes on."

The girlfriend flashes a middle finger while she retrieves her pants.

He watches the boyfriend carefully for any signs, any evidence at all. And he sees it. On the right hand. Crimson.

He swallows and bows his head.

"What's your problem?"

The boyfriend paces anxiously, glances at her, jaw set. "More cops in the area last night."

"Relax. Nobody outside of my dead family knows about this place."

"I want more time."

"You've had two fucking days."

The girlfriend scoffs, pulling a hooded sweatshirt over her head then bending to tie her boots. "Just kill him already. Let her freeze to death. Whatever. Let's get the hell out of here. I'm getting bored."

The boyfriend's at her side in an instant, yanking her by the elbow, nearly throwing her into the fire.

The girlfriend recovers well, doesn't even blink as she fires the weapon. The bullet splinters the wood floor. And the boyfriend slaps her hard across the face, snatches away the gun.

_He signals for them to split up to look for the victim._ _She nods once._

_He takes the stairs while she slips around the corner._

Her whole body jerks at the unmistakable sound that rings out across the quiet landscape. Immediately, panic sets in.

Ignoring the excruciating pain, she twists onto her side, pulls with every ounce of strength against her bonds.

She can't free herself. She begins to scream his name. It's hoarse and broken, sets her throat and lungs on fire. Before she can even gather breath for a second time, crunching footsteps come to a halt beside her. The frostbitten skin on her cheekbone is split open from the impact of his fist.

"You broke your promise," he hisses. A spray of spit flies from between his teeth.

He begins to pace, running his hand over and over his black hair. She tenses, preparing for a kick to the ribs or blow to the head, another punch. But he stops in his tracks, his head jerking to make eye contact, chest heaving, face flush.

He produces a blade from his back pocket, moves to her ankles. "I was gonna leave you to fate…"

The rope's cut.

"That bitch forgets it sometimes, but we're still in this together."

He moves to her wrists.

"She's my partner, you know? You understand..."

With one more swipe, she's free from one hell.

"You and him, you're in this together too."

And enters another.

_The building's empty._

_His skin tingles, his pulse pick up speed as he doubles back to their separation point._ _He follows the corridor she took earlier._ _The door at the end is ajar._ _Cautiously, he pushes it open._

_And something heavy cracks against his skull._


	2. Chapter 2

_He hears rain falling as he comes to in an unfamiliar place. It's warm. A fire crackles nearby._ _His movements are restricted, his skin pinched under the bonds. He blinks a few times, letting the dull throbbing inside his head ease, letting his eyes adjust to the low light._

_A woman with a gun sits in an oversized chair near the fireplace. She greets him with a dark smile._ _"Hey, he's awake."_

_A man saunters over from the kitchenette, crouches down._ _He tilts his bottle up, draining the last of its contents. Elliot steadies himself._ _"What happened to Kate?"_

_A sharp bark of laughter comes from the woman's mouth._

_The bottle is tossed aside, it bounces off the wall and spins on the floor._ _"Kate's dead."_ _He picks at the thick silver chain bracelet._ _"You fucked up."_

_Elliot's eyes flutter closed momentarily before he inhales a deep breath._ _"Where's my partner?"_

_"Don't worry about her."_

_Elliot swallows hard. "What do you want?"_

_He slowly stands._ _"I don't make deals with cops."_

_"You won't make it out of this, Cade."_

_His lips gradually twist into a snarl. _

_Elliot continues._ _"You've abducted two police officers. Kidnapped. Sexually assaulted. Murdered. They're already searching. Dozens. They'll find this place and-"_

_"Shutup!"_

_"They'll take you out. Both of you. Trust me, they will not hesitate."_

_Suddenly, he kicks, boot solidly connecting with Elliot's shin. _ _Elliot breathes hard through his nostrils, watches him stride to the corner near the door where a metal bat leans against the wall._ _Realization hits, and he immediately yells out for him to stop._

_But he doesn't._ _He doesn't even acknowledge Elliot's threats and pleas._

_The front door swings open, a blast of frigid air quickly invading._

He wakes in a cold sweat. Heart pounding, mind struggling to convert from nightmare to reality.

"Hey," she whispers softly from beside him.

He sighs, replies groggily, "Sorry to wake you."

"You were mumbling in your sleep…"

He props up against the pillows, wills his body to relax.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He doesn't. He can't tell her.

Her hand reaches for him, and then slowly retracts. He's relieved. And guilty.

He shakes his head to answer her question, pulls the sheet off and gingerly gets to his feet, careful to put his weight on the left leg. The lingering images of the nightmare add to the headache as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He squints in the mirror. Fading bruises, a mix of black and purple, yellow and green. He splashes cool water against his face, closes his eyes and for a moment just breathes, allows the pictures swimming behind the lids to dissolve.

After swallowing down a pill, he flips off the light and returns to the dark of the bedroom, holding his broken wrist close to his side.

He sits on the edge of the bed, glances at the red digits on the clock. It's always early, always late. He sighs, leans back against the headboard, and wishes she'd stop looking at him.

"Are you in pain?"

"It's okay. Let's try to get some sleep." He rolls onto his side, his back to her, unaware how she stares at him for a long moment, then reluctantly turns away.

_"She's pretty."_ _The girlfriend readjusts her grip on the gun as Elliot looks up at her._ _"He's always had a thing for brunettes."_ _She adds, flicking her blonde locks over her shoulder._

_A wave of nausea swells just as the door opens and the boyfriend drags her inside._

"Elliot?"

He softly clears his throat. "Yeah. It does."

"How bad, would you say, does it get?"

He stares at the skyline from the partially opened blinds, watching the brilliant shine of sunlight play off the multitude of glass and steel.

"It…" He steps away from the window, uses the wall for support to alleviate his leg. "It's not too much that I can't deal."

"Is that the truth?"

"Well, I'm dealing, so yeah."

"Okay. That's good."

He nods. "That it?"

"Unless there's something else you want to discuss."

He gives a small shake of his head, makes his way to the door.

"I'll see you Thursday."

He exhales quietly before slipping out.

_He almost bites off his own tongue to keep from voicing his pain, his rage. He finds her eyes, his own blurred by the moisture inside them. He locks onto her gaze, guilt and sorrow etched deeply in blue._

_He's frightened to see that her eyes reveal nothing._

_After all the seemingly endless violence, she's turned onto her side away from him, unmoving. He begs for her life despite the blows he receives each time he calls out her name._

_He puts up a fight against the ropes, only to receive a swift kick to his midsection. _

_The boyfriend carries her limp body from sight, into the darkened hallway. The girlfriend casually wipes fresh blood from the bat._

_His face distorts in anger as he curses the girlfriend. And as she raises the gun to his head a agonized scream erupts from the rear of the cabin._

John perches on the corner of his desk, offers a mug of coffee. "It's actually fresh."

Elliot smiles faintly, takes the cup. Sips the warmth and eyes the detective still sitting there.

"Got a call while you were out," John confesses gently. "Allison Mackey was found dead in her cell this morning."

Elliot's eyes widen slightly.

"She left a note for Cade," he adds. "Partners until the end…"

Elliot looks down at his lap, weighing the implications.

John pushes off the desk, watches him for a moment, the worried lines on his forehead, the distant look in his eyes. He puts a supportive hand on Elliot's back briefly before walking away.

_He yells her name again. The girlfriend nods proudly of her mate's ability to have drawn such a horrible sound from a human. But it's quiet from the back now. Just occasional muffled noise. He counts off each unbearable minute in his head until the boyfriend emerges from the dark hallway._

_"Need a break?"_

_The girlfriend smiles sweetly. "Dying for a shower."_

_The boyfriend watches her hips sway as she disappears from the main room, then takes a long swig from his bottle._

_"What'd you do to my partner?"_

_A chill creeps along his spine as the boyfriend seems to contemplate an answer before settling on a lazy shrug._

_"What'd you do to her?!"_

_The boyfriend takes another drink, long and slow. Methodically screws the top back on. And winks._

"Hear you're free from desk duty."

"Not a moment too soon," Elliot replies, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

His gaze pauses to rest on his partner's desk. Fin catches it.

"You're with me today. Old man's got court."

His line of sight moves away from the desk as he nods once, places his jacket over the back of his chair.

"We got anything?"

"Cap wants us to pay Mr. Thompson a visit about those e-mails he claimed not to send."

"Okay…" Elliot mumbles.

"Somethin' wrong?"

Fin's voice brings him back to the moment, and he clears his throat.

"No…"

Fin rises to his feet.

"I'm good," he quickly assures.

The detective nods and doesn't press further.

"Ready?"

Fin grabs up his cup of coffee, trails not far behind.

_He's forced to sit through it again. Flesh pounds against flesh, nails scratch, animalistic sounds fill the cabin. But he pushes their noise aside, keeps alert for any small sound from the back. His dread grows with every passing minute of complete silence. When they're finally finished, they make sandwiches and pass out on the sofa._

_He pulls in vain against the restraints. Eventually, unable to keep his eyes open, he drifts off whispering a faint apology._

"I hear her. I-I can't get it out of my head." He paces the short distance from door to wall, the one with the thick wooden book shelf stocked with too many pages of empty words. "He was…" He expels a heavy breath, rubs a palm across his forehead. "I just…wanted him to do it, so he couldn't…he couldn't hurt her anymore…"

A look of disgust crosses his features as he sinks into the leather chair.

"It's completely normal for people to want someone they care about to be relieved of pain and suffering. You don't have to feel guilty or ashamed of it, Elliot."

He shakes his head slowly, eyes shining along the rims. "I dream about it. Every night. H-how could I ever hope for anything but to save her? To walk into that precinct and know she'd never be there again…"

He shakes his head again, with more vigor, and rises to his feet, pacing the same route again.

"It's alright, Elliot."

"No…it's…it's not," he argues firmly. "I wished for him to end her life." He stalks to the window, stares out at the clouded daylight filtering through the blinds. He sighs, head hangs, as he repeats in a ghost of a whisper. "Her life."

_The door bursts open, the broken lock lands with a loud thud against the floor in front of him. Bright lights shine in the darkness, voices call out demands._

_A shot fires. More voices. And the cabin fills with chaos._

"Elliot, hey, I wasn't expecting you this early. I just put Eli down for the night and the kids are…" His wife deposits a basket of laundry on the floor and comes to stand in front of him, concern in her eyes.

"Elliot?"

He takes her by the hand but keeps eye contact at a minimum. "He had a good day?"

Kathy gives his fingers a light squeeze. "Of course he did. Play, eat, sleep, play some more…" She bends enough to meet his gaze, questions poised. But he loosens his hold on her hand, his fingers slipping from her grasp.

"I'm gonna go give him a kiss. Got to head back to work," he says, giving her a quick half-hearted smile he knows she won't buy.

"Elliot."

He shakes his head as he backs away. "I know. I'm sorry, I just…I…"

"Go," she gently commands, resigned.

_He sees the girlfriend pinned to the ground, cuffs on. He feels hands upon him and questions repeated._

_His eyes scan the cabin for the boyfriend, but he's gone. His heart sinks as his line of sight shifts to the dark hallway._

_The medics gently lead him from the cabin. They ignore his insistence to be let go. He wrestles away from them, jogs back to the doorway, despite the pain, passes the girlfriend being escorted by two uniforms._

_Her eyes are wide, wild. She smiles at him. He keeps moving._

_"Elliot."_

_"Where's Cade?" he asks, out of breath._

_The captain's expression confirms his fear. He puts a hand on his shoulder, silently encouraging his return to the ambulance waiting down the road._

_"You need to let them treat you."_

_Before he can object, an officer appears from around the corner of the cabin. "No sign of Cade or Detective Benson from any windows. One in the back's boarded up, must be where he's got her."_

_"Is he talking?" Cragen asks._

_The officer shakes his head. "Negative."_

_"Any indication of Benson's condition?"_

_"Nothing."_

_Cragen turns back to his detective, orders him in a firm tone to get looked at._

_The officer and captain cross the threshold into the cabin._

_Elliot's head lowers as an EMT takes him by the arm again._

He sits at his desk, shoulders slouched, alone in the dark and unable to keep it all from replaying in his head. He stares at his phone, considering options, wishfully thinking.

It had been his call. His decision. And she had taken the direction, dutifully so.

It was on him. All on him.

_His arm has just been wrapped in thick gauze and tape when it happens._

_Gunshots. From the cabin._

_One._

_Two._

_Then nothing but garbled radio and muted voices._


End file.
